


'til it turns from color to black and white

by leighbot



Series: thinkin bout forever [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - America, Alternate Universe - College/University, Bottom Zayn, Frat Boy Liam, M/M, Virginity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-24 05:43:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4907602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leighbot/pseuds/leighbot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“You don’t look like a guy who’d resort to an American Pie bet to lose his virginity.”</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>“What do I look like, then?” Zayn asks, crossing his arms.</i>
</p>
<p><i>He clearly has the wrong impression and Liam feels his cheeks heat even as he blurts out, “You look like a guy I’d work for all night for the chance to take home.”</i><br/> </p>
<p>Or, Liam's senior year begins like a movie: there's a frat party, a pretty boy with long eyelashes, and a bad decision or two.</p>
            </blockquote>





	'til it turns from color to black and white

**Author's Note:**

  * For [imitation_red](https://archiveofourown.org/users/imitation_red/gifts).



> A bit of a repost, since there was some fine-tuning needed from the maintainers on this exchange. Thanks to everyone involved in keeping this afloat. Endless, endless thanks!
> 
> I had so much fun filling this prompt! I was very, very nervous about how I would do with the sex scene but I've had countless assurances (three- I've had three assurances) that it works and it's good and no one pulls any impossible moves so... yay for that!
> 
> Title from Frank Ocean, we all know why.

While most parties on Greek Row are nothing like the ones depicted in movies, the first bash of the year at the Phi Kappa Sigma house comes pretty damn close. Though they’re the newest fraternity at the school, they’re quickly gaining a reputation for the fun they have and the success their graduates are already achieving, and their pool of rushers has grown exponentially since they were given their house only a decade ago.

Said house is currently ridiculously overcrowded with brothers, rushers and randoms; the only distinguishing marks are the togas around the brothers’ otherwise naked bodies and the neon pink and green t-shirts the rushers are wearing. Besides that, the rest of the guests are in various states of dressed and undressed, and the pool in the back has more than one person in it who is naked.

After being appointed president of their campus’ chapter of the Phi Kapps fraternity, Liam’s made it his personal mission to make sure nobody could ever regret giving him their vote. At the very least, he thinks they’ve pulled off their opener in perfect style. Mostly, it is due to him letting Louis, his vice president and best friend, loose to plan it all, but Liam’ll still take the credit.

He tells Louis as much, knocking their shoulders together where they’re leaning against the brick wall in the front yard and sharing a cigarette.

“Fuck you,” Louis snaps without any real heat behind it, grinning over at Liam before turning away and blowing smoke out the corner of his mouth.

“No, really,” Liam insists with a grin. “I’m gonna tell everyone it was my idea. They’ll believe it: toga mixers aren’t exactly original.”

“You can’t name half of the drinking games they’re playing inside,” Louis challenges.

Liam thinks about it for a second. He knows he saw a group playing Fuzzy Duck in a corner and he’s willing to bet money he doesn’t have that there’s another group playing flip cup somewhere because Louis’ amazing at the game and always likes to show off. Other than that, he can’t even imagine what other things Louis has set up to keep everyone entertained.

So, instead of accepting the challenge, he finishes the cigarette and just grins easily. Louis nudges Liam’s cheek with his forehead before sighing and letting his weight rest against Liam’s side. Their bare skin is sticky with sweat where they touch, the humid September air thick around them, and Liam pushes him away after a second.

The gold and black bedsheets Louis has twisted around his body slip a bit to reveal the jut of his hip, and Liam contemplates tugging them down further and exposing his bare ass to the people milling about in the front yard but, before he can reach over, Niall pops up just then as if the extra inch of Louis’ skin on display has sent out a siren call to his ears.

“Feeling it, babe?” he asks with a grin, ducking in and pressing himself to Louis’ side. Liam watches Louis’ smile shift as he nods, getting smaller and fonder as he brushes a hand down Niall’s bare back, his own sheets plain white and bunched haphazardly around his waist.

“Just needed some fresh air,” Louis explains.

Liam snorts. “Carcinogens are plenty fresh,” he teases.

Louis flips him off lazily with one hand, the other still tracing along Niall’s spine.

“Oh, just get a room, you two,” he mutters, gagging when their eyebrows lift in sync.

“What a novel idea,” Niall drawls, overdramatic.

Turning his back and ignoring the sound of their laugher moving away, Liam makes his way around the side of the house. He wants to get to the backyard, where coolers of beer and soda are set up in a haphazard circle around the grill area, but what he sees when he turns the corner distracts him.

Not ten feet in front of him, one of the rushers has another kid- a freshman, by the looks of him- pinned against the brick wall and his mouth on the guy’s neck. Normally, Liam would mind his own business and duck away, but this rusher has already been troublesome and is on his short list of those with a firm ‘no’. He stands there a moment longer, something else about the scene troubling him until the guy against the wall looks over at him, his eyes unfocused and mouth lax.

The kid looks absolutely drugged.

“Get away from him,” Liam snaps, watching as the rusher follows orders immediately in his shock. Liam strides forward and steadies the kid when he looks like he’s about to tip over, the full weight of his upper body crashing down on Liam’s forearms. “Easy, kid,” he murmurs, trying to get his hands places correctly so he can help the boy up.

“I didn’t do anything to him,” the rusher says from behind him. Liam turns to glare at him- _Steven, his name is Steven_ , he reminds himself- and bares his teeth in a snarl.

“Take that shirt off and leave it on the porch: you’re no longer in consideration as a member of this fraternity.”

The look of shock on Steven’s face before he complies doesn’t even make Liam feel bad, especially when he has a potentially-roofied freshman currently nuzzling into the gold sheet that’s twisted up to cover one of Liam’s shoulders.

“You can fuck me instead,” the kid says, tongue thick in his mouth from whatever he’s taken or been given. The thought of it being the latter makes Liam feel sick to his stomach.

“No one’s gonna be doing that tonight,” Liam says, in a tone meant to convey reassurance. In answer, the kid growls and nips at the skin of Liam’s shoulder. He glares up at Liam when he pulls back.

“Let go f’me,” he mumbles, tugging his arms away.

Letting him pull back, Liam watches as he turns towards the front yard. He gets only a few feet away before he stumbles on the grass, one arm coming up to press against the bricks and keep his balance as his bare feet slip against the dew-covered ground.

“Here, hold on,” Liam says, stepping up behind the kid again.

This time, the kid doesn’t pull away. He exhales and leans back against Liam’s chest, his weight a warm pressure against his bare skin. He cups the kid’s elbow with his left hand and uses his right to adjust the toga carefully so they don’t slip down. Once he’s confident it’s not going anywhere, he presses that hand gently between the kid’s shoulder blades.

“What’s your name, kid?” he asks gently, guiding them forward.

“M’not a kid,” he responds in annoyance, tripping slightly but righting himself with Liam’s help. “M’name’s Zayn.”

“Okay, Zayn. I’m Liam,” Liam replies, feeling himself smile. He’s already somewhat fond of the boy- _Zayn_ , he reminds himself. From their brief bit of interaction, he can tell that Zayn’s probably sarcastic- would probably get on with Louis- but he’s almost devastatingly pretty and he laughs out an ups-a-daisy when he trips again, making Liam laugh as well.

“Guess th’ last one got me,” Zayn says.

That makes Liam frown, staring at a spot on the back of Zayn’s neck. “Last one of what?”

Zayn turns his head and glares at him.

“Okay, you’re not going to tell me,” Liam sighs, leading them up the steps and through the front door.

The music’s near-deafening once they’re inside, and the press of bodies around them seems to be disorienting to Zayn. He turns slightly and Liam lets his grip slacken but keeps his arms up in case Zayn tips over again. Instead, he just presses against Liam’s chest, his hands to the bare skin the bedsheet doesn’t cover.

“Where’s your room?” Zayn asks, tipping his head back and looking up at him through his thick lashes.

Though he _hates_ himself for it, he feels a sharp tug of arousal at the way Zayn breathes out a sigh, a sharp puff of warm air dancing across Liam’s chin. He bites his bottom lip and closes his eyes, getting himself under control.

“Zayn,” he warns.

“ _Lee-yum_ ,” Zayn responds, smiling.

His eyes are half-lidded, pupils dilated and his face is shiny with sweat. He looks like he’s in the middle of the best sex of his life, but Liam’s had enough time to identify his symptoms and he’d quite confidently bet that Zayn’s gotten some ecstasy from someone. Liam looks around a bit desperately, wishing Louis was near, but he spots one of the rushes, a curly-haired kid named Harry who’s almost certainly going to get a bid.

Harry sees him looking and he tilts his head back, indicating he needs help. Instantly, he comes over, making to take some of Zayn’s weight from him but Liam tightens his grip and shakes his head. Zayn’s mouthing at his bare skin, one of his hands fiddling with the clasp that’s keep the bedsheet on his shoulder. He giggles when he feels Liam’s grip shift, but he doesn’t look up.

“I’ve got him,” Liam says. “But he took something, ecstasy I think. Have you seen anyone else who seems… drugged?”

Harry takes a second, eyes looking up and to the right as he thinks back. Finally, he shakes his head. “A lot of drunk people that we’ve set up downstairs to sleep it off,” he says with a shrug. “No one else.”

“Okay, that’s good,” Liam says, bending his knees and shifting Zayn in his arms when the boy goes slack against him. He’s still licking distractedly at Liam’s shoulder- a bit low and close to his pit- but Liam looks down to check on him just to be sure.

Zayn’s looking up at him already, something weird in the tight expression around his eyes. It unsettles Liam, but he just hauls him up again against him, locks his arms around his tiny waist when Zayn brings his hands to tickle against the nape of Liam’s neck.

“Listen,” Liam says to Harry, dragging his gaze away from Zayn’s amber eyes. Harry’s looking between them, open curiosity on his face though he’s smart enough to keep quiet. “Keep eyes out for anyone else acting like they’re more than drunk,” he instructs. “And tell Louis if you see him tonight that I’m in my room and I need him.”

“Is that such a smart idea?” Harry asks, speaking fast as if he’s trying to get the words out before he can second-guess himself.

Liam furrows his brow and pulls Zayn up again. Though his feet seem like they’re solid on the ground, he keeps slipping slowly and Liam knows he needs to get him in his room and put him to bed to sleep off the effects of the Molly. “What are you talking about?”

“He doesn’t really seem up for it.”

It takes Liam another minute to work out what Harry’s words and his worried expression mean. “Oh, fuck,” he sighs, rolling his eyes when it clicks in his head. “I’m not looking to hook up with him, Jesus. I need him to sleep it off before he throws himself at someone who’s not going to care if he’s fucked up. I’m not a fucking rapist.”

The dark red that colors Harry’s cheeks proclaims his embarrassment, and he nods sharply once before quickly scampering away. Liam looks around him, tries to see if anyone else around them thinks he’s taking advantage of Zayn’s stoned state but no one is really paying them much mind, most people paired off and focused on each other more than they care about what the frat president is doing.

Liam gets him into his room, Zayn finding his footing easily enough once they’re moving though he doesn’t drop his hands from where they’re tickling along the edge of Liam’s hairline. He tosses himself onto the bed, bouncing slightly when he hits the mattress.

“Are you going to fuck me now, Liam?” Zayn giggles, getting his hands twisted in the hem of his t-shirt when he goes to pull it off.

Liam ignores the flat expanse of Zayn’s abs, tugging his shirt back down for him. “Not tonight,” he says gently.

Zayn rolls his eyes and goes to stand from the bed but he’s too fucked up, stumbling and going easily back down to the bare mattress when Liam gives him a gentle shove. He kicks off his jeans but doesn’t try to undress any further, so Liam lets him be.

“I need to go,” Zayn mumbles, but he turns his cheek into Liam’s pillow and closes his eyes as if he’s about to fall asleep. When his eyes open wide and look over at Liam, he seems almost lucid for a moment before they get heavy-lidded again. “You smell really great, _Lee-yum_ ” he mumbles, shifting so he’s on his stomach with his hands under his belly.

He’s asleep within a minute.

~*~

Neck sore and back in tight aches from his night spent half-dozing in the armchair at the head of his bed, Liam’s already awake when Zayn opens his eyes the next morning.

“Morning,” Zayn croaks, voice rough from sleep.

“Who gave you the Molly?” Liam asks.

His brow furrows, clearly taken aback at the surprise question. “I took them myself,” Zayn says as he wipes the sleep from his eyes.

“You- you what?”

Zayn shrugs and closes his eyes fully, blowing out a breath and stretching, the tips of his toes peeking out from under Liam’s comforter. “I took them,” he repeats, bringing one arm over his head and tucking his hand under the pillow, his other still buried under the blanket.

Liam’s distracted from his next question for a moment, staring at the smooth expanse of skin on display before clearing his throat and looking away. “Why’d you do that?” he asks.

“Wanted to get fucked.”

The blunt way Zayn says it makes Liam cough around nothing but air. When he’s done coughing, he can hear the sound of giggling and he looks up to find Zayn smiling bright, looking impossibly younger.

“You’re an asshole,” Liam laughs, standing from his chair and stretching. “Why’d you really take them?”

Zayn sits up, keeping the covers over one shoulder. He looks kind of like half of the brothers had the night before in their togas, and Liam smiles easily at him.

“No,” Zayn giggles again, stretching both arms above his head so the comforter falls. He’s still in his t-shirt, loose from sleeping in it, but he pulls the covers back over his shoulders again as if he’s cold. “I really did take it to have sex. You’re just kind of cute when you’re taken aback.”

Liam groans and wipes a palm over his flushed face. “Fuck off,” he says around a laugh. He tosses Zayn a pair of sweatpants and turns away so Zayn can stand up and slip them on.

“Got another shirt?” Zayn asks after a second. “This one’s got a tag that’s itchy.”

“Yeah, ‘course.” Liam checks over his shoulder, turning when he sees Zayn folding his jeans. Liam’s sweats fit him fine, tight enough to stay on his hips but loose in the bum and long enough to pool at his feet.

He makes his way to his closet, debating over his shirts. He’s got half a mind to pull out one of his plain white ones, knows how loose and oversized they’ll look on Zayn’s lean frame. He feels his cheeks grow red again at the thought of the knowing smirk Zayn would probably give him, and he startles when he feels a hand on his waist.

“Budge over, yeah?” Zayn says, elbowing his way into the shallow closet. He sees the shirt in Liam’s hands and looks at him under his eyelashes, smirking exactly the way Liam had pictured. “Is that for me?” he teases.

Liam shakes his head and backs up, quickly stripping his shirt off over his head and tugging the white one on. “Mine,” he says once his head pops through the hole, straightening over his shoulders.

Zayn looks a little annoyed but he just grabs another shirt at random, taking his off slowly. His waist is even smaller than Liam had realized when he had been teasing his shirt up last night. He’s cut, too, abs almost as defined as Liam’s though he’s got to be years younger.

“How old are you?” Liam asks now that the thought is on his mind.

“Eighteen,” Zayn answers.

“Freshman?”

“Yeah, you writing a book?”

“Maybe,” Liam returns easily, smiling back when Zayn looks at him. He pulls Liam’s shirt over his head, hiding the spray of ink on his collarbones that Liam wouldn’t mind have a closer look at. “C’mon, kid, let’s see how many rushers are around to make us breakfast.”

Zayn rolls his eyes at the name but agrees, following Liam out of his room.

It’s practically noon but there’s still a crowd in the kitchen, brothers and rushers alike who all look as hungover as Liam would feel if his time at the party hadn’t been cut short by trying to corral Zayn. Instead, his head is clear and he bounces into the room with Zayn trailing behind him almost shyly.

There’s a pot of coffee on the counter but the rule of the house is to have a constant supply of caffeine, so Liam pours the rest into two mugs for himself and Zayn, careful to be as quiet as possible as he starts another. A faint commotion behind him makes him turn around, just in time to see Niall and Louis walk in with their pajama pants hanging low. Louis is scratching at the thin happy trail leading to the visible elastic waistband of his boxers and Niall’s staring at his ass, not trying to hide it at all.

The room catcalls them as one, bringing a smug smile to Niall’s face as he heads over to Liam, pouting for his coffee.

“There’s more making now,” Liam says with a pout of his own, trying to resist. “Can’t you wait?”

Niall just nudges at his arm with his forehead, looking up at him with his baby blues that captured Louis’ heart during the first mixer they’d attended freshman year. It appears he’d captured Liam’s heart a little bit as well, if the easy way he surrenders his coffee is anything to go by.

He hears a snorted laugh from behind him, turning around to look at Zayn in betrayal. Zayn’s smirking as he sips at his own coffee, leaning back against the counter with one arm folded across his stomach.

“Way to stand your ground there,” he teases, voice soft and almost shy.

The kitchen is clearing out around them slowly, most of the guys heading to the stadium for tailgating before the football game but some are piling into the backyard to soak up the early-afternoon sunshine.

“You’re too easy, Payno,” Louis says, causing Liam to turn back to look at him. He comes up behind Niall and presses a kiss to his bare shoulder, smiling happily with crinkled eyes when Niall takes a sip and then passes it to him.

“Spread that around, will ya?” Liam teases.

“Think your little friend there has already figured it out if it the way you’re branding him with your clothes is anything to go by.”

“Fuck off,” Liam says, cheeks burning pink. “It’s not like that.”

With a look that coveys how much he doesn’t buy what Liam’s saying, Louis hops up onto the island counter across them, tugging at Niall’s shoulders until he’s in front of him and between his thighs, in the perfect position for Louis to keep stealing sips of his coffee.

“That’s what they all say,” Louis says primly.

Zayn’s response catches Liam by surprise. “The ‘branding’ thing is rich coming from someone with so many hickeys on their hipbones they look like a leper.”

There’s only a couple people left in the kitchen with them, a rusher and two brothers near the back doorwall who seem to be in a deep conversation. Liam doesn’t pay them any mind, watching Louis with barely contained delight. His mouth is open, jaw dropped in shock, and Niall is barely holding back a giggle.

Finally, after narrowing his eyes and glancing quickly to Liam, Louis smiles and nods in approval. “He’s sassy, can we keep him?”

Zayn snorts out another laugh, rolling his eyes when Liam looks at him, though Liam’s sure he sees a faint blush coloring his cheeks as he takes a sip from his mug.

Liam smiles as well, shifting and making the necessary introductions. “This is Zayn. Zayn, these are Niall and Louis. They’re disgustingly in love and also a bit slutty.”

Zayn laughs at the outraged sounds Niall and Louis make at the same time, though Liam doesn’t know if they’re protesting that he claimed they’re in love or that they’re slutty. They’ve been exclusive for nearly three years but always get tight-lipped about feelings or the future.

The fresh coffee finally complete, Liam takes the pot and pours himself some, topping off the mugs held out to him by Zayn and Niall alike. They both laugh as they mirror each other, and Liam feels another small tug in his chest at the way Zayn smiles, fitting in so well with Liam’s friends.

He replaces the pot and shuffles out of the way, hopping up onto the counter next to the sink and kicking his heels against the cupboards below. “Are you guys going to the game later? I gave my student section tickets to Soph and Eleanor for this game.”

“Only you would give away tickets for the home opener, Liam,” Niall says with a laugh. “We’re going, gonna tailgate with the girls. Didn’t know they had your tickets but I should have. Are you a fan of football, Zayn?”

“I watch it,” he agrees with a grin at Niall. “I’ve never been to a game, though. It was kind of expensive to get tickets on top of tuition.”

“Oh, definitely,” Louis agrees. “We get complimentary tickets for the frat, otherwise we’d go to just a game a year- if that. There’s a pretty sick theater setup in the basement here, though. The brothers usually go tailgating before games but they trudged back here to watch it and pass out from day drinking.”

“Do we have a new rusher then?” one of the people near the doorwall calls out, apparently having cottoned on to the conversation.

Looking over, Liam sees the rusher is the one who has called out, his neon shirt probably still from the night before based on its wrinkled appearance. There’s a rule about always looking your best, but Liam doesn’t usually care about it outside of official frat appearances so he doesn’t say anything.

Niall, who doesn’t tend to like any of the rushers anyway, glares at him. “Why would you say that?”

“I saw him heading into Liam’s room,” the kid laughs back, probably still drunk if he can’t see the obvious distaste on Niall’s face. “Looked a little out of it, but I won’t tell if you won’t.”

Louis’ scowling so deeply that Liam’s surprised he isn’t snarling. He shifts uncomfortable on the counter, reaching a hand out and settling it on Zayn’s shoulder when he notices the awkward curve of his spine as if he’s trying to draw into himself.

“I _know_ you didn’t just imply that Liam raped someone last night,” Louis bites out after a brief moment of pulling himself together.

“Whoa,” the rusher says, hands up as he approaches, though he’s still laughing. “Can’t be throwing that ‘rape’ word around, people might take it seriously.”

“Give me your shirt.” Louis’ voice is low and serious, his blue eyes sharp as he holds out his hand.

“What? Why?”

“We don’t want people in our frat who think sleeping with someone too messed up to consent isn’t rape. Give me your shirt and get out of here.”

“But I’m on the football team!”

“Bro, we don’t give a fuck if you’re the starting quarterback: you’re out, stop embarrassing yourself by fighting it.”

Liam’s fingers are practically digging indents into Zayn’s shoulder by the time the kid’s slipped out of his shirt and left the room, the front doors closing loudly in the next room. The brothers who had been talking with the rusher come over, both of them good guys from last year’s crop of rushers.

“Hey, sorry about that asshole,” Mike says to Zayn, who shrugs and smiles tight-lipped and unnatural. Liam lets his fingers relax and Zayn slips away with a nod, heading into Liam’s room.

“I’m gonna-“ Liam says, topping off their mugs again and dumping a truly disgusting amount of sugar into his own before grabbing them both and heading after Zayn.

He finds him bare-chested and rooting under the bed on his hands and knees. “You alright?” he asks.

Zayn huffs out a breath and looks up, eyes narrowed.

“Two weeks on campus and I’m the frat president’s whore. This is exactly what I wanted to be known for, being the first notch on your bedpost this year.”

“I’m not like that,” Liam protests, folding his arms and frowning. Zayn smirks and rolls his eyes, bending down again and searching for… something. “What are you looking for?” Liam asks, frustrated.

“My fucking shoes, I don’t know where they are.”

“You didn’t have any,” Liam explains smugly, watching as Zayn looks up in surprise.

“I didn’t have shoes?” he asks, clarifying.

“You were barefoot when I found you.”

“Oh.”

“You want to talk about why you took Ecstasy, were begging to get fucked, and yet stormed off just now when someone thought you had?” Liam asks, arms folded. “I mean, that kid is obviously a dick anyway, but you didn’t seem to care what people thought last night so why do you care now?”

Zayn rolls his eyes, getting to his feet. He’s covered in tattoos, and Liam has to force his eyes away from the filled-in heart on his hip bone to focus instead on Zayn’s face.

“I care,” he begins slowly, “because I’m a virgin and my roommate and I came up with a bet to see who could lose their ‘v-card’ first. His word, not mine,” he adds.

His cheeks are flaming red, and Liam focuses on how the color bleeds from his tan as he fights with himself for a very long moment before he lets out a laugh he can’t keep in.

“You’re joking with me, right?” Liam asks, realizing immediately how wrong he is when Zayn’s expression closes off completely, a firm set to his mouth indicating how massively Liam’s messed up. “Shit, Zayn, I’m sorry-“ he tries but Zayn’s already storming past Liam to get through the door, still barefoot and shirtless.

Liam groans, letting his forehead fall to the doorframe for a quick moment to roll his eyes at himself before he takes off after Zayn, stopping again to shove his own bare feet into a pair of shoes from the disorganized mess that they try to pass off as the hall closet.

“Zayn, hold on!” he calls out as he jogs after him. Zayn’s not running, is indeed carefully stepping over a bed of rocks separating Phi Kappa Sigma’s house from their neighbors, and Liam reaches him without much trouble.

“Oh, just leave me alone,” Zayn bitches, mostly good-naturedly though Liam’s sure he can hear a hint of hurt. “Don’t need hot frat boys laughing at me.”

Liam’s thoughts are stuck on _hot_ for a beat too long but then he shakes his head and grabs for Zayn’s arm, catching him gently and getting him to stop walking. “I’m sorry,” he says, meaning it sincerely and relieved with Zayn seems to believe him.

“It’s okay.”

“No, it isn’t. I shouldn’t have laughed. I just- I guess I’m shocked that you’re a virgin, you know?”

“Obviously no, I don’t know.”

“Well, you look, you know,” Liam stammers, letting Zayn tug his arm away. “You don’t look like a guy who’d resort to an _American Pie_ bet to lose his virginity.”

“What do I look like, then?” Zayn asks, crossing his arms.

He clearly has the wrong impression and Liam feels his cheeks heat even as he blurts out, “You look like a guy I’d work for all night for the chance to take home.”

Zayn’s eyes get wide at the confession before he blinks, lashes fanning against his cheek for a long moment. “Oh,” he breathes out, looking up at Liam with the same shy expression he’d worn that morning in the kitchen.

He’s such a mix of emotions, Liam finds it hard but so exciting trying to keep up.

“Erm, yeah,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. “Anyway, you should come by sometimes and hang out- you’re the first person to win Louis over in a while so you’re automatically accepted into the group.”

“I’m not a frat brother, though,” Zayn says, still a bit reserved.

“That’s okay,” Liam insists. “We don’t hang out with the brothers; we’d all kill each other if that was the case. If you wanted to come by on Thursday, we’re doing a barbeque with one of the sororities- should be a good time.”

“Okay,” Zayn agrees.

They stand there for a moment, both a little awkward until Liam takes a step back, towards the fraternity. “Um, oh, right,” he stops, looking back at Zayn’s bare feet. He kicks off his shoes and picks them up. “You’ve got farther than I do,” he says.

“I’m not taking your _shoes_ , Liam,” Zayn laughs.

“It’s my insurance policy that you’ll come back on Thursday,” he answers. He knows his face is doing that _thing_ Louis always teases him for when he’s hitting on someone at a bar, and he just hopes Zayn’s oblivious.

He can’t read the boy’s expression, though, just smiles once Zayn’s shoved his feet into Liam’s shoes.

“See you Thursday, Liam,” he says before he turns and walks away.

“Bye!” he calls out, standing and waiting to see if Zayn looks back at him as he walks towards downtown to- most likely- catch a bus back to his dorm.

He doesn’t look back and Liam tells himself he isn’t disappointed.

~*~

Liam had almost thought he imagined how beautiful Zayn was at the party and the morning after. It turns out they are in a seminar together, though, and he realizes just how attractive Zayn is at eight in the morning on Tuesday, even with bags under his eyes, unkempt hair and an enormous paper cup of coffee in front of his face.

It’s a literature class Liam had failed his freshman year before he’d realized how much harder he’d have to work than everyone else. Since then, he’s maintained the minimum GPA he needed to remain in the frat, but he has a point to prove with this class and can’t really afford the distraction Zayn provides.

That doesn’t stop him from sitting next to Zayn and letting him doodle on Liam’s hand while he listens to the teacher go over the class syllabus, though. He’s alarmed at the amount of Shakespeare on the syllabus, but is _tsked_ at by Zayn when he makes to move and double check the list of works they’re meant to review over the next fourteen weeks.

“Sorry,” he mutters, relaxing his hand again and letting Zayn finish outlining the superhero he’s made up in the ridges of Liam’s knuckles.

“Don’t worry about this class,” Zayn says once they’re packing up to leave. “I’ve already read nearly everything on the list. I can help you out if you’d like.”

“Aren’t I meant to be helping you?” Liam asks. “Showing you around campus and telling you with teachers to avoid and which to suck up to?”

Zayn snorts, smiling at him with his tongue pressed against his teeth. “Haven’t you been too busy with frat parties to go to classes?”

“I don’t like what you’re implying there,” Liam says, though he’s grinning hard enough his eyes squint, enjoying teasing and being teased by Zayn. “I’ve the highest GPA in the house besides Niall, but no one can compete with him anyway. He’s just about top of his year.”

Liam follows Zayn to his bus stop, one hand in his pocket while the other grips his school stuff, pencils in his fist and book, notebook and binder on his arm. Zayn’s wearing a backpack, like a true freshman, and he rolls his eyes when Liam points it out.

“I don’t have time to make it back to my dorm before my next class,” Zayn says.

“You’ll learn how to schedule better next semester.”

“With your guidance, I can do anything,” Zayn simpers, batting his lashes.

Liam giggles at that, watching as Zayn’s smile replaces the exaggerated swooning look. A bus pulls up just then, and one look at it has Zayn stepping away. “That’s me.”

“Okay,” Liam says. “See you Thursday at the barbeque?”

“And in class,” Zayn reminds just before he climbs into the bus, scanning his pass at the front and moving towards the back. He grins at Liam through the dirty window, pulling a funny face before the bus pulls away, and Liam stands on the sidewalk laughing for a moment before he turns on his heel and heads back to the frat.

~*~

“He’s following you around like an enamored duckling,” Louis hisses in Liam’s ear the next night when he corners him near the bathroom.

Liam turns his head, smiling when he sees Zayn not far away, looking apprehensive as he sniffs a drink Niall’s just handed him. “He’s been hanging out with Niall the whole time,” Liam points out reasonably, tossing an arm around Louis’ shoulders and pulling his tipsy friend into his side.

“Whatever, then. He’s following my b- _Niall_ around like an enamored duckling.”

“What does that even mean?” Liam muses as they walk into the thick of the dancefloor, heading towards the kitchen for drinks of their own. “Can ducklings be enamored?”

“Haven’t you ever seen _Fly Away Home_? Where Anna Paquin convinces a bunch of ducks to follow her around. Inprinting is what it’s called, I think.”

“Not sure that’s the right word,” Liam says, though he’s often the one getting them wrong.

“Whatever, fuck, your ridiculously good-looking fanboy is going to convince Niall to date him instead and then I’m gonna be stuck with you.”

“I don’t want to date you!”

“Psh, you’re not a very good liar, Liam,” Louis says, bringing a hand up and pushing it to Liam’s face once they’re close enough that he can make it to Niall without stumbling.

“Hi there,” Niall laughs, setting down his drink and wrapping both arms around Louis’ waist, half to keep him upright. “You’re just about done, then.”

“I can be a duckling,” Louis says, bringing a hand up to trace along Niall’s jaw.

“Is this an ‘if you’re a bird, I’m a bird’ thing?” Zayn asks Liam, sliding up next to him.

“This is a ‘Louis is drunk and affectionate’ thing,” Liam answers.

Zayn laughs and takes a sip of his drink, making a face.

“Do you not like it?”

“A bit strong,” he agrees, holding it out for Liam to taste. He coughs at the burn of the alcohol.

“Niall, are you trying to poison us?” he bitches, looking up to find that Niall and Louis have completely disappeared. “That was quick,” he grumbles, grabbing a napkin from the counter and dabbing at his mouth.

“I like this song,” Zayn says suddenly. “Come dance.”

It’s not a request so much as a command, and Liam gamely heads out to the makeshift dance area in the backyard with him, already shimmying to the beat of the newest K Camp song. Zayn laughs when he turns and sees the way Liam’s dancing, immediately tossing his arms in the air and doing an approximation of a belly dancer hip roll that has Liam doubled over in giggles. They keep at it for a few more songs, trying to make the other laugh hardest with their moves until Liam’s close to crying and has to declare Zayn the winner.

Zayn laughs loud enough to be heard over the music, jumping up and down in victory. There’s a crowd around them but they aren’t paying them any mind, and Liam knows his face is far too fond when he watches Zayn do a victory shimmy.

“You’re staring,” Zayn says after a moment, suddenly looking a bit uncomfortable. He looks around them, seemingly realizing all the people that may have seen him dancing, and Liam can see the color in his cheeks.

“You’re just a lot of fun to be around,” Liam reassures him. “I wish you could have rushed this year, it’d be fun to have you be part of the frat.”

“I’m too cool for your dumb frat,” Zayn teases, relaxing slightly though Liam can see the way his shoulders are tight and he isn’t dancing anymore. He gets an arm around Zayn’s waist, resisting the urge to measure its span with the length of his forearm, and leads him closer to the grill.

The remaining rushers are manning the food station in neon shirts and chef hats, and Liam’s glad they’re only a few days away from formally offering them all invites to the frat. He doesn’t mind the rushing hazing process overall- knows theirs is mild compared to some fraternities on campus- but he always feels weird towards the end, like it’s a joke that’s gone on too long.

The curly haired kid who’d helped him the night of the party is flipping burgers on the grill, a beaming smile on his face when they approach. “Hi Liam!” He calls brightly. He lifts his hand for a fist bump and Liam’s brow furrows when Zayn’s the one who answers, knocking his knuckles against Harry’s.

“You two know each other now?” Liam asks.

“Oh, yeah, Zayn’s in my dorm and we’ve got a couple lectures together.”

“Can I nominate him to be in your frat?” Zayn teases.

“He’s already going to be a pledge,” Liam counters.

“I am?” Harry asks, eyes wide.

“Of course you are- you’re one of the best, Haz,” Zayn answers for him, a soft smile on his face that causes a small sting of jealousy to stab at the pit of Liam’s stomach.

“Right, then, can I get a burger?” he asks, knowing he sounds kind of gruff.

Zayn looks at him sideways with a slight smirk on his face, and Liam flushes at being caught out even as Harry scrambles to get a burger plated for him. “You want one, Zayn?” he asks, still smiling hard enough to dimple.

“Nah, I am gonna have a bit of potato salad, though.”

“Made it myself,” Harry brags, charming and sweet.

“Can’t wait to try it,” Zayn says, blinking slow in a way that Liam _knows_ now is a signature flirting move.

He grits his teeth, the descent into jealousy paused only when Harry’s expression turns confused, clearly recognizing what Zayn’s doing. He glances at Liam before looking back to Zayn and shrugging. “Hope you like it,” he says eventually, and Liam touches Zayn’s side gently to move him along, a small line forming behind them.

They don’t talk as they eat, sitting cross-legged on a patch of grass near the back deck. Zayn leans into Liam’s side though, and offers him a bite of his potato salad before stealing a chunk of Liam’s burger, so he quickly gets over his momentary jealousy. Zayn’s laughing randomly, just quiet giggles that make Liam smile.

“What’s so funny?” he asks after the second or third time he feels Zayn shaking.

“I just-“ Zayn sighs, smiling up at him. “I’m really happy at a frat party. It’s so not who I was in high school, at all.”

“You’re not that far removed from high school,” Liam teases.

Zayn rolls his eyes, about to say something back, when Louis and Niall plop down on Liam’s other side.

“A bunch of us are going to Crunchy’s tomorrow night, Payno, are you in?” Niall asks.

“Sure,” he agrees.

“What about you Zayn, you up for it?”

“I don’t know what that is,” Zayn answers.

“It’s the best bar downtown. Their pizza is _ugh_ -“ Niall cuts off, having a moment.

“I’ll never be able to compete with pizza for Niall’s affections,” Louis laments fondly, patting at Niall’s stomach.

“Don’t touch me, I’m so full,” Niall moans, making Zayn snort out a true laugh, biting his lip and covering his mouth and nose when he hears the sound he lets out.

“We cracked the steely exterior!” Niall cheers. Zayn flips him off good-naturedly.

“You want to come, though?” Liam asks. “They do karaoke and stuff, and the food is really good.”

“Sounds fun,” Zayn agrees.

“Don’t go against Liam at karaoke,” Louis advises. “He’s amazing.”

“We’ll see about that,” Zayn decides.

~*~

Liam should have known. The smirk Zayn had worn for the rest of the night should have been enough of an indication, but he’s somehow still surprised when they all show up to Crunchy’s, order a pitcher of beer and a tray of pizza, make Zayn sing first since he’s the newbie and then he proceeds to completely _smash_ it. Seriously. Liam’s always the best at karaoke- which is an honor he wears with pride since their group is particularly talented anyway- but Zayn delivers a killer rendition of Frank Ocean that has the entire bar shouting and stomping their feet after, and Zayn smiles so wide his lips looks like they hurt.

He stumbles back to their table amidst the small group of students rallying around him to clap him on the back- the atmosphere at Crunchy’s always one of post-football high and overall positivity. Liam has to congratulate him, eyes hurting at the corners from his own beaming grin.

“You were amazing, I’m never going to compete with that!”

Zayn’s flushed from the attention and the stagnant air in the bar, already sweaty along his hairline. He blinks up at Liam. “Told you we’d see about karaoke.”

“You win, you win it all. I’m going to have to practice a bit more before next time.”

Zayn laughs and goes to say something more but then Niall is coming up behind him and dragging him to the bar for another round of drinks. There table is just for the four of them, but the bar is packed with people and they’re gone a long time. Liam starts getting curious, tuning Louis out as he wonders what could be keeping them. He looks over his shoulder, feeling his jaw go slack when he sees Niall and Zayn talking with someone new. The guy is clearly hitting on Zayn, crowding him against the bar by his proximity. Zayn and Niall are both smiling and laughing at something he’s said, and Liam sees red for a moment.

“I knew you liked your little duckling but I didn’t know you were proper gone for him,” Louis says.

“I’m not gone for anyone,” Liam protests automatically, glaring at the stranger’s back.

“That probably explains why you look like you’re going to kill that guy just because he’s hitting on Zayn.”

“Zayn’s an adult, he can flirt with whoever he likes.”

“That guy’s got more on his mind than just flirting,” Louis retorts, slamming the rest of his beer back and smirking when Liam turns his glare on him. “That’s a prime mating dance right there. I don’t think Zayn’s gonna be sleeping in his own bed tonight.”

“Fuck you,” Liam grits out, turning his back on Louis as he laughs. Liam stands and crosses the bar quickly, nearly shouldering the guy out of the way as he gets a hand on Zayn’s hip. “You were amazing,” he says. “I don’t know if I’ve told you.”

“You have,” Zayn says, but he’s smiling at Liam anyway. It’s a softer expression than the one he’d been wearing before, and he turns to the stranger. “It was nice meeting you,” he says, and Liam’s fingers flex where they’re touching Zayn, knowing it is irrational that he doesn’t want him to speak to anyone else. Not when he could be talking to Liam.

“You too,” the guy says before he leaves, giving the both of them some space.

“He was hitting on you,” Liam says.

“I know.”

“Did you like him?”

“Not really.”

Liam thinks about that for a second, his fingers edging up the hem of Zayn’s t-shirt so he can gently rub the smooth skin there. “He wouldn’t have been good enough for your first time,” he says, voice pitched low so they can’t be overheard, though Niall’s gone back to the table with Louis and there’s space around them without anyone pressing in too close.

“Is there anyone who would be?”

_Me_ , Liam wants to say. _‘Me’ would be good enough_. He thinks Zayn knows, anyway, because then he’s pressing closer to Liam, their chests together, as he cautiously brings a hand up to his neck to drag him down into a sweet, soft kiss.

Liam immediately pushes forward the last bit of distance, pressing in until Zayn’s back is against the edge of the bar and Liam’s hands can fall flat on either side of his waist, caging him in in a way that, he hopes, will erase all thoughts of the other guy from Zayn’s mind.

Zayn kisses like he’s plenty experienced, lips slick and slipping against Liam’s own as he opens his mouth for a taste of Liam’s tongue. He groans into the kiss, feeling out the curve of Zayn’s hips with his hands. His palms have always been too big and his fingers too long- ‘trash can lid hands’ he’s heard them called- but they fit on Zayn’s body as if that’s what they were made for and he pulls back before he loses any further control.

“We can’t, we have to stop,” Liam says, though his hands don’t stop running over every inch of Zayn he can reach.

“We don’t,” Zayn argues, tipping his head back for another kiss that Liam almost gives him.

He pulls back completely, though. “I shouldn’t be doing this with you, it isn’t right.”

Zayn’s eyes flash with anger, narrowing as his mouth purses. “Why isn’t it ‘right’? What’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Liam says, stepping forward in an effort to reassure him. He fits his arm around Zayn’s waist on reflex, just needing to feel him. “You’re beautiful, you’re perfect,” he says. He dances his fingers along the small of Zayn’s back for a moment, before flattening his palm and pulling him forward again for another kiss.

Zayn responds for a moment, the kiss a bit desperate before he gets his hands flat on Liam’s chest and pushes him away.

“Don’t waste my time,” Zayn says, eyes downcast. He uses the space he’s made between them to slip away, heading back to the table and grabbing his coat before he leaves. Liam watches him go, feeling confused. Louis looks over at him as soon as Zayn’s walking away from them, his eyes wide. It inspires Liam to action finally.

He rushes after him, leaving his own jacket behind and trusting Niall or Louis to grab it for him. Zayn’s at a bus stop a half-block ahead of him, and Liam runs up to him.

“Feels like I’m always chasing after you,” Liam says with a grin when he comes up behind him.

“You can stop any time,” Zayn snaps.

Liam settles onto the bench next to him, frowning when Zayn shifts away. “I don’t understand what I did wrong,” he admits.

“It’s just clear that you don’t want me, you don’t have to keep acting like you do.”

“I don’t want you?” Liam repeats, incredulous.

“I’ve thrown myself at you twice now, you’ve shot me down both times. I don’t need to be a fucking math wizard to know what that means.”

Liam laughs, startled like he often is with Zayn. “I’m sorry,” he says when Zayn gives him a hurt look. “I just. I can’t believe you honestly don’t see how I’m panting after you like a lovesick puppy. I’ve been completely obvious.”

“Then why do you keep saying ‘no’ to me?” Zayn shouts.

His voice echoes off the bus stop’s glass shelter, the street around them populated enough that students stop and stare at them. Liam shuffles closer and Zayn lets him, this time, and he goes as far as putting one of his too-large hands on the sharp bone of Zayn’s knee.

“Your first time should be-“

“ _Don’t_ tell me I need to be in love,” Zayn interrupts.

“That would be ideal,” Liam says, tilting is head to look at Zayn a little closer. “But it should at least be someone special and, like, _worthy_. Someone who is going to treat you right.”

It is dark outside but the light hanging from the shelter’s ceiling above them casts an orange glow that makes Zayn’s skin look like it’s alight with flames. Liam’s own hand looks sickly where he’s still gripping onto Zayn’s pant leg, too desperate for a connection to let go. But then Zayn looks at him, lashes casting fairy-wing shadows on the sharp jut of his cheekbones. His eyes crinkle at the corners and he smiles wide, his voice unbearably fond when he says, “ _You_ are someone special.”

Liam can feel his jaw go slack, a blush coloring his cheeks. “I’m no one,” he immediately says.

“You’re special,” Zayn insists. “To _me_ , you’re special.”

Giggles fight their way from Zayn’s chest, and he’s leaning in before Liam really absorbs what he’s said. Their lips meet, Zayn doing most of the work as Liam still tries to process what’s happening. “Kiss me back,” Zayn teases, continuing to peck at his lips.

Finally, Liam does.

~*~

The frat house is empty, most of the brothers still out at Crunchy’s. Liam shuffles Zayn in through the doors and across the main floor to his room, one hand possessive on the small of his back until they’re in his room and he’s throwing the latch on the door to lock it, letting Zayn crowd him against the wall as take charge of the kiss.

“I’m ready, I’m so ready for you,” Zayn breathes when he pulls back.

Liam’s still in a daze, but he’s learned his lesson about questioning Zayn so he just nods and coaxes him back to the bed, sitting him on the edge with his head tipped back. He watches the long column of Zayn’s throat as he swallows, more nervous than he’s possible letting on.

“What _have_ you done?” Liam asks.

Zayn blushes but doesn’t break eye contact. “I’ve given blow jobs and gotten some. Hand jobs, too.”

“Okay,” Liam says, brushing his thumbs gently against the skin below Zayn’s eyes. “Have you thought about your preference? Some boys don’t like to bottom.”

If possible, Zayn’s skin grows darker at that. Liam can feel the way the heat’s radiating from his cheeks, and he leans his head in to suck lightly at Zayn’s bottom lip.

“You gotta answer me, sweet, or we’re not doing anything today you haven’t done.”

“I know,” Zayn responds. “Um, I’ve used my own fingers before. I like- that.”

Liam closes his eyes for a moment, trying not to be the guy who loses his control from the mental image of Zayn fingering himself. He manages to stay composed, but he bends forward for another kiss all the same.

“You’re so hot,” Zayn says when Liam pulls back. “So fucking hot and I can’t believe you’re gonna fuck me.”

“You can’t say things like that,” Liam breathes, gritting his teeth and shifting his hands so he’s caressing Zayn’s jaw, fingers against his neck as he claims his mouth for another kiss to keep him quiet.

“You _are_ , though,” Zayn says the next time they break for air.

Liam steps back with a sigh, rolling his shoulders. “I am, yeah.”

Zayn bites his lips, more nerves showing through his normally blank exterior.

“Get undressed, babe, and I’ll be right back,” Liam says, giving him a hint of privacy as he heads into the loo to wash his hands and splash his face with water. He counts to fifteen before he heads back into the room, leaving the light on in the bathroom so he has enough to see by. He sees Zayn under the covers already, his eyes wide in the dark and reflecting the light from the bathroom.

“If you change your mind at any time, just tell me,” Liam says. “I want this to be everything for you.”

“I’m fine,” Zayn assures, though his voice breaks a bit. “Just a little- leaving me alone left me to my thoughts,” he admits.

“Wouldn’t want that,” Liam teases. He wants to make this special for Zayn in the same way his first boyfriend had made it special for him, and he knows the best way to get Zayn to relax is to make a fool of himself. So he starts a playlist on his iPod dock, something with a lot of R&B that he knows Zayn will like, and he begins to dance a little bit.

Zayn laughs easily, relaxing as Liam swivels his hips and teases the hem of his t-shirt. “What are you doing?” he asks.

“Putting on a show for you,” Liam says simply.

“You’re a dork.”

“Yeah,” Liam agrees, because he is. And because he sees Zayn smiling, and the way his eyes aren’t as panicked as they were, and he knows he’s calming him down. He lifts the hem of his shirt finally after fiddling with it another moment more, making sure to flex his muscles as he pulls it off.

Liam’s not a fool: he’s fully aware of the way he looks and the effect it has on his partners if they’re the type to be into bodies like his. He’s no beefcake, but he often practices soccer with Louis and his teammates, and he has his fair share of definition.

Zayn’s clearly into it, sitting up so the comforter pools around his waist, his own perfectly sculpted chest on display. Liam’s mouth waters at the splash of tattoos across his skin, eyes focused on the red of the lips right in the middle. He’s staring when Liam lifts his eyes again, and he licks his lips as if he knows exactly what it makes Liam think of.

The smirk on his face after tells Liam that yes, Zayn does know.

Liam smirks back, thinking that two can play that game, and he pushes down his jeans and boxer-briefs in one smooth motion, thankful he chose to wear his most relaxed denim to the bar. He watches Zayn’s throat bob as he swallows, eyes drawn to Liam’s cock where it’s hard and pressed against his hip. He tugs at it a couple times, shivering at the tease as he rubs his thumb against the drip of slick at the head.

“I want to taste you,” Zayn says, his voice small again but strong without even a hint of nerves. He pushes the covers off completely, letting Liam see only a second’s worth of his naked body splayed against his emerald green sheets before he’s up on his hands and knees, crawling forward. “I haven’t done this much,” he cautions, “so be gentle.”

“I will,” Liam promises, running a hand through his hair, feeling the wavy locks like silk against his fingers as Zayn’s mouth parts as it gets closer, his pink tongue licking a line from the base of Liam’s cock to the tip. Liam groans, tightening his grip on the back of Zayn’s skull as he starts to take him in slowly.

Liam’s entranced, eyes focused on the obscene cut of Zayn’s cheek even more pronounced than usual as he takes the first inch or two in, bobbing his head and letting spit slide down the shaft before he takes in more. Zayn mumbles a happy sound around the head of his dick. His fist wraps around the rest of what he can’t fit into his mouth, and he works a rhythm up quickly.

He pulls off after a moment, licking at his lips as he strokes his fist faster. Liam touches the tip of his index finger to the jewelry in Zayn’s ear before slipping it along his jaw, tucking under his chin and urging him forward again. Zayn takes the hint.

Zayn keeps taking him in only shallowly, not pressing too far and instead focusing his efforts on getting Liam wet and making him feel good. He’s making little noises around Liam’s cock, hums and slurps when he works the head. Liam grunts, his chin digging into his own sternum as he looks down at him.

He wants to shout from the rooftops, wants to bang on his chest like Tarzan when Zayn flicks his gaze up to look at him, thin lips deceptively full where they take him in. It’s like the best kind of porn. His body is shaking with the effort it takes to keep from shoving into the soft heat of his mouth and he has to pull back himself before he loses focus on what’s important tonight: Zayn and Zayn’s needs.

Zayn whines when the tip of his dick slides from his lips slow and wet, bobbing against his bottom lip and spreading a line of slick where it touches his chin. “I was enjoying myself,” Zayn says with a glare, voice low and slightly raspy already.

“Me too,” Liam assures him, using his thumb to wipe away the slick and closing his eyes when Zayn sucks it in. “A little too much, if m’honest.”

A filthy smirk is all the acknowledgment his words receive, but then Zayn’s pressing a few open-mouthed kisses to the ‘V’ of his hips, trailing his lips up the sharply defined abdomen and sparsely hairy chest, nosing at the hollow of Liam’s throat when he reaches it.

“You’re so beautiful in my bed,” Liam says, kissing Zayn on the lips before he can respond to the infatuated confession. Zayn’s hands go to his biceps, holding him tight even as Liam gets an arm around his waist and the other hooked behind one thigh, kneeing up onto the bed and lifting Zayn carefully. He lays him out on the sheets, head just finding the edge of the pillow as Liam planks over him.

Zayn’s thighs spread easily for him, letting Liam’s hips settle in the space they create. They both breathe out a string of whispered curses when their cocks brush, Liam digging his knees into the mattress and using his body to hike Zayn’s thighs higher.

“Fucking _Christ_ , Liam,” Zayn groans, letting his hands fall to the bed and grip at the sheets as the head of Liam’s dick teases against his balls.

“S’okay,” he mutters, sucking a kiss to Zayn’s Adam’s apple. “I’ll take care of you.”

“I know,” Zayn whispers and Liam’s breath catches at that, because it’s honest when he says it and pure when Zayn believes it and he’s going to start falling harder than he already is if he reads too far into the fond look in Zayn’s eye.

Oh, he isn’t kidding anyone, least of all himself: Zayn’s had him wrapped around his finger since the very first night.

“Sweetheart,” Liam whispers, bringing their mouths together again. He repeats the pet name in between kisses, whispers it aloud every time he pulls back to breathe.

“Liam,” Zayn answers every time, stretching the syllables out when Liam gets a hand under his spine, fingers trailing down until he can press them against the tight clench of Zayn’s hole.

He’s relaxed enough that Liam can put some intent behind his touches, not enough to breach him but enough that Zayn keens when he feels it. He fumbles as he reaches for his nightstand. They’re in the middle of the bed and too far away, so he pulls back from Zayn and leans over at the waist, chest cold where Zayn’s no longer pressed against him.

Lube’s on the very top and he searches blindly for a condom before his fingers close around the foil wrapper, pulling it back with him as he shifts off of Zayn completely, settling next to his side with an elbow down to take his weight. He slicks his fingers easily, keeping Zayn distracted with soft kisses as he circles a finger around his rim until he’s slick and relaxed enough that the very tip slides in easily.

He keeps it light for a long time, minutes stretching into one another as he teases first the tip of his index finger and then his middle inside of Zayn, re-slicking with too much lube on purpose before he sinks in his entire finger. Zayn’s body pulls him in, his breath hitching as he returns Liam’s kisses.

Needing to see, Liam lifts his head and sucks in a deep breath, shifting so he can kneel between Zayn’s thighs and watch the way his body’s opening for him. “You’re taking me in so well, sweetheart,” Liam says, biting his lip against a smile when Zayn blushes all across his chest.

His thighs twitch as if he’s going to close them, and Liam uses his free hand to press against the inside of one, keeping him spread so he can watch as he works a second slick finger in. “Tell me to stop,” Liam reminds. “You just have to tell me and I’ll stop right now.”

“Don’t you dare,” Zayn groans, head tipped back and neck on sharp display as he rocks down on the pressure.

It gives Liam an idea and he pulls his fingers out, dick twitching when he feels how Zayn’s body tries to keep them inside. The whine Zayn lets out doesn’t help either, and he squeezes the base of his dick once before he gives himself a stroke, thumbing off the precome at the head and wiping it on his own thigh.

“Gonna get you in my lap, make you work for it,” Liam says, propping up the pillows against the headboard and tugging Zayn up until his thighs are spread wide astride his hips. He thumbs at Zayn’s hole and sighs when he feels how relaxed he still is, pressing his two fingers back inside and pushing as deep as he can.

The change in angle makes it easier for him to crook his fingers forward, finding Zayn’s prostate easily and teasing at it until he’s near sobbing form it. His temple is shiny with sweat and Liam kisses it off, lips pressing to his skin as Zayn rocks down on his fingers.

“Gonna add another one,” he breathes against his hairline, teasing his ring finger against Zayn’s rim once he nods. He has to pull out and add some more lube, groaning at the filthy sound the slick makes when he presses three fingers inside, teasing at his prostate and spreading his fingers as well as he can given how tight Zayn is around him.

Zayn starts moving again, tightening his knees around his hips and lifting off of Liam’s fingers. He lets gravity pull him back down and Liam pushes against his prostate again until Zayn’s whining for more and their chests are sliding together from the sweat between them. With a biting kiss to Zayn’s lips, Liam pulls his fingers out, wiping them off on his skin before opening the condom wrapper and rolling it down.

He’s so hard he needs no further encouragement in that respect, and he slicks himself as quickly as possible, spreading the excess around Zayn’s rim one last time before he’s manhandling him into a better position and nudging the head of his dick in place until he can pull Zayn down onto it.

“Oh fucking hell,” Zayn breathes, teeth bared as he adjusts to the stretch.

“Alright?” Liam asks, concerned.

Zayn nods and Liam lifts his clean hand to his forehead, pressing a thumb to the crease between Zayn’s brows and smoothing it out. His eyes are closed tight, not quite a pained look on his face but Liam can still see his discomfort and he wants to help him out.

“Relax,” he encourages. “Just breathe. Too much?” Zayn huffs out a laugh and Liam blushes. “I didn’t mean- not that. Just, did I not stretch you properly?”

“It’s fine,” Zayn says, voice shaky. “Just, feels a bit… new.”

“Try to shift when you can, it’ll feel better once you get used to it.”

Zayn nods and smiles, eyes opening and meeting Liam’s gaze. He keeps his hips still a moment longer, leaning in with parted lips instead. He obviously wants a kiss, and Liam’s never one to deny Zayn anything.

Kissing Zayn like this is the most intimate thing he’s ever done. He’s had sex with people he’s been in love with- and no matter how infatuated he is with Zayn, he knows love is a long way off- but somehow the feeling of their mouths sliding together while Zayn tries to suck in deep breaths is making Liam’s heart pound. He squeezes the hip he has in his grip, his other hand buried in his hair, and pulls him in closer.

“Gonna move now,” Zayn mumbles, practically to himself, and he’s lifting off of Liam’s cock almost all the way before he slides down again, judging the movement correctly by what is most likely pure luck. He experiments with several different motions, and Liam bites the inside of his cheek to keep from just holding Zayn still and fucking into him with abandon.

He wants Zayn to find what works for him.

So he keeps still as much as possible while Zayn’s hips roll and shift, press and rock against his own until he falls into a semi-regular rhythm. His cock had flagged slightly between them but Liam takes the hand from Zayn’s hip and strokes him back to full hardness instead, thumbing at the flare of his head while Zayn pants and grunts every time he takes Liam in all the way.

It’s a brutally slow pace, and Zayn runs out of steam before too long. Liam coaxes him off his lap with some bruising kisses and whispered words, getting him on his back again and towering over Zayn as he reaches a hand down to hike up his thighs until Zayn’s ankles cross high behind his back. He presses in again, smooth and slow, and works his hips a couple times before setting a quicker pace.

Liam’s thrusting deep and fast, a speed he can’t keep up for too long but- from the beautiful sounds he’s pushing out of Zayn’s mouth- he thinks he won’t have to. Zayn’s whines are high-pitched and breathy, hitched hiccoughs as he wraps an arm around Liam’s neck to pull him down into a messy kiss. They’re neither of them really able to focus on what their lips are doing, as if they’ve forgotten how to even kiss. Liam’s overwhelmed, isn’t sure for a moment whose first time it is after all, and he barely remembers to get a hand around Zayn’s cock, stroking only a few times before he’s spilling into the condom and Zayn’s following him over the edge, making a mess of Liam’s fist.

He squeezes Zayn through the last of it, gasping as he feels Zayn’s body clenching down on him, and he grips himself at the base and slips out between one aftershock and the next.

“Oh my god,” Zayn laughs, probably from the rush of adrenaline, and Liam _has_ to kiss him again. They’re hardly any more focused on the kiss now, giggling into each other’s mouths as they both come down, but it’s still a connection he needs. Finally, Liam rolls off to the side and deals with the condom quickly, wrapping it in a tissue and setting it on the nightstand to finish dealing with later before he uses a second to wipe his hand.

“So, how was I?” Liam says, still smiling.

Zayn shrugs and smiles, tucking into Liam’s side and nuzzling into his shoulder. “Don’t have anything to compare it to, gonna have to do more research and get back to you.”

Liam pinches his hip once for the cheek and a second time for the thought he gets of Zayn with other boys, and Zayn laughs loud and sweet as he wiggles away from him. Liam follows the movement of his body, tucking Zayn back into his chest and wrapping his arms around his waist.

“Don’t do research with anyone but me,” Liam whispers, kissing Zayn’s neck. “Not for a long time, at least.”

“Aww, babe,” Zayn says, turning in his arms but thankfully not pulling away. “Are you asking me to go steady? Gonna let me wear your letter jacket and give me your fraternity pin?”

Liam’s dick would twitch at the thought of Zayn wearing his pin on a chain around his neck if he had any energy left. Instead, he just traces a spot on his sternum where the chain would end, pressing a kiss to the skin there and then one to the column of his neck before finally swarming up to kiss him on the lips.

“I’m asking that you go on a date with me,” he clarifies. “Tomorrow.”

“Think it is tomorrow already,” Zayn laughs, looking upside down at the digital clock on Liam’s nightstand.

“Then tonight. Go to dinner with me tonight.”

Zayn mocks as if he’s thinking about it, but then he smiles so hard his eyes crinkle and he nods. “Yeah, okay. I’ll let you feed me.”

Liam giggles as he kisses him, yawning against his mouth a moment later and setting them off again. “Sleep time,” he says, stealing another kiss before he falls back onto the sheets.

“I’ll go,” Zayn says, sucking his top lip behind his bottom teeth as he makes to leave the bed. Liam tugs him back until he’s sprawled half-on top of Liam’s chest, head tucked into the side of Liam’s neck.

“You’ll _not_ go,” Liam says, hoping it comes off as a suggestion though his behavior is definitely not leaving room for argument.

“Yeah, I can do that, too.”

He’s asleep quickly after that, staying pressed against Liam’s side as he snuffles every few breaths. It’s a rhythm that Liam finds soothing, and he presses a last kiss to Zayn’s forehead before he lets himself drift off as well, knowing his arm will be numb in the morning from Zayn’s solid weight and not caring even in the slightest.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


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